


Bird's Eye

by lightbringer666



Series: The Winchesters and a Wall [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Codependent Winchesters (Supernatural), Episode: s12e08 LOTUS, M/M, Prison, Prison Guard POV, Prisoners, Quote: Sam and Dean Winchester are psychotically irrationally erotically codependent on each other, Solitary Confinement, Supermax, outsider pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-04 18:23:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14026011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightbringer666/pseuds/lightbringer666
Summary: I've seen some fucked up things in my day, but monitoring the Winchester brothers had to take the cake. I mean, I knew that they were some fucked up criminals, they tried to kill the president, for Christ's sake, but I didn't expect any of this.The two of them were falling apart, destroying themselves from the inside out, and I got a bird's eye view of it all.





	Bird's Eye

**Author's Note:**

> Some stuff from the guard monitoring the Winchesters.

I had only just transferred to supermax, I used to be just a typical guard at different prisons, working my way up. How I ended up here was just a bunch of moving. I didn't quite start calling it the 'series of unfortunate events' until I worked with the Winchesters. I was one of the agents tasked with collecting them from where they were being held and taking them into their cells, and then I'd be one of the ones surveillance them. Yeah, it was a lot of time spent on them, but we needed to keep them low-key and have as little people making contact with them as possible. They were both dangerous, terrorists and escape artists, and they were crafty. 

When I had first arrived, they were in separated cells, but they were reaching their arms through the bars, trying to grasp one another's hands through them. 

"It'll be okay, Sammy, we'll get this all worked out, alright?" The shorter one, apparently Dean, was saying as I walked in. 

"Yeah, Dean, we'll get through this, we'll be alright..."

"You got it, little brother. We're gonna be just fine. I'll think of something..."

The conversation stopped when they saw me, but they didn't let one another go. I had read about their psych records, codependency. Where they were going was likely the worst thing they could go through before their sentencing, but it wasn't my department, and frankly, I didn't care. 

Though they were handcuffed, they were touching in the car, collapsing on one another in sleep as I drove the van to our facility. Sometimes, when I checked the back, they were whispering to one another. I tuned in the first few times, thinking that they may have been plotting. We really should have driven them in separately, but we just wanted them locked up ASAP, but when I listened in, it felt like I was intruding on something personal.

_.I'm scared, De_

_.Me too, Sammy_

_?We've got this, right_

_.Of course we do. I'm not gonna let nothing happen to you. Promise_

_?And what about you_

_...Don't you worry about me_

It sounded sort of odd to hear brothers talking like that. I knew that their relationship was twisted, but they seemed almost like lovers in this conversation. As though they were something deeper, something stronger. It wasn't just uncomfortable to hear them like this, it was frightening. They seemed so human together, you couldn't imagine that they were monsters, all the people they've killed, all the civilians harmed in their shenanigans and I found myself feeling sorry for them. Wanting to comfort them and keep them together in this human state for as long as possible. 

It kind of hurt, the idea of separating them, it seemed as though I were personally responsible for splitting apart a single soul, keeping the halves in jars. It felt inhumane. Maybe it was a psychological thing. Like how most wanted to take care of Jeffery Dahmer while meeting him. It's just sympathy for the Devil. A little bit of passive hybristophilia hasn't harmed anyone, as long as I don't let them out. 

I drove a little extra slow to the facility. 

* * *

 

It didn't seem like the lockup would be an issue either. The two men seemed to be taking their forced separation rather well, and didn't make things too hard on staff. At least, that's how it started. 

I've seen some fucked up things in my day, but monitoring the Winchester brothers had to take the cake. I mean, I knew that they were some fucked up criminals, they tried to kill the president, for Christ's sake, but I didn't expect any of this.

The two of them were falling apart, destroying themselves from the inside out, and I got a bird's eye view of it all.

Again, it seemed normal. They would read the material we gave them, soft cover, pre approved books, mess with their clothes, the older one began tallying the days (with shocking accuracy), doing anything to keep away the boredom. Though, it was odd, when I came in the next morning, the two of them were on the floor rather than their beds, the youngest asleep against it and the oldest siting and leaning on it, pressed up against the wall that was connecting the two of their cells. They were so close to in sync on choosing the area that they were in to where, had the wall not been there, they would be pressed up against one another. 

Apparently, the short one doesn't sleep as often as he should, and after a few days, the other guards threaten him with sedatives. He didn't seem to care though, too deep in thought at the time to respond, but he started to sleep. Pressed up against the wall, oddly in sync with his brother. 

This happened a lot. Looking at the screens back to back showed you how oddly in sync the Winchesters were.  Even in separate rooms, their movements ran fluidly with one another's, whether this was natural or practiced, I had no idea, but I didn't know how this could be. I stopped questioning it, though. 

When the two weren't oddly synced, they were polar opposites. 

Whilst Dean would go into a depression, sitting by the wall, refusing to move, Sam would go into a mania, throwing himself against the wall and screaming. Then, it'd be the other way around, with Sam refusing to eat and Dean yelling at the guards. 

Other than those days, they were like a mirror, sitting almost back to back, mumbling. Sometimes even their hand motions replicating one another. It seemed as though they were connected. They were almost possessed by one another, but at the same time, they were the same person. Even while they were separated, their bond was obviously strong.

I couldn't help but sometimes stare for hours at the monitors hosting the boys' images. It felt odd, calling the two of them, strong men in their 30's, boys, but it was hard to see them as anything else. They seemed to be children, clinging to a wall like a safety blanket, somehow able to tell exactly where the other was. Neither of them slept on their beds, they slept against the wall, like children throwing a tantrum. 

While Dean would beg, Sam would drop to the ground like a child, screaming and tugging on his hair. Breaking down, kicking and crying. Sometimes he was forcefully sedated, while others, I watched this for hours at a time. 

To be honest, I was relieved when they died. I wasn't sure how long I could take watching them slowly lose it until I stepped in, either quit or let them into one cell. I didn't have the authority to do that, but nobody who did had seen the tapes. 

Nobody did after that, everyone who worked in that facility disappeared shortly after. I, being a bit of a sketchy character, slipped under the radar, but I remember. I watched them. I saw them scream and cry and break at just basic separation. 

So when I see them two years later, standing on top of one another in fine pressed suits, I keep my head down and keep walking. 

It's not worth it. 


End file.
